Talk About Being Born Under a Bad Sign
Okay, can we all just agree that astrology and horoscopes are bullshit? The same people that believe in horoscopes are the same loonies that trust tarot cards and magic crystals to decide which muffin to have with their coffee each morning. It’s ludicrous, plain and simple. Some of these knuckle heads even go so far as to use this system to make financial decisions! Financial decisions…come on people! Would you trust your stocks, bonds and life savings in the hands of a broker that reads from 'Mystic Mel' each morning before he hurls your money into the market? I think I would trust Paul the Psychic Octopus over any human psychic (you know the one that was predicting all the wins for Germany in 2010’s FIFA world cup). People even play the lotto based on their ‘lucky’ numbers as stated in their horoscope. Think about that one people, 12 signs of the Zodiac and each sign is allocated 6 ‘magic’ numbers, extrapolating the math, that makes 72 ‘mystical’ numbers. There is only 80 numbers used in the lottery, your so called psychic has simply picked random numbers between 1 and 80! How come I’ve never seen a horoscope state that my magic number is 1,428? Is that just an unlucky number? Maybe.
How about when people come up to you and say ‘What star sign are you?’ and you answer with ‘[insert star sign here]’ ‘Oh you totally are! I knew it’ how the fuck could you possibly have known? I’ve never had someone come up to me and say ‘Shut your mouth…you’re a Goddamn [insert star sign here]’ nope, not once.
It just gets under my skin when I hear someone say ‘Oh, her husband is definitely cheating on her, he’s a water sign and she’s an air sign… it was never going to work out’ that’s right, some people actually make decisions about their love life based on the stars! Can you imagine meeting the person of your dreams and they are perfect in every way, beautiful, funny, charismatic, charming and the sexual chemistry is astounding…but, wait a minute, what’s that? You’re a Taurus? Whoa…hold it right there you horned devil, I can’t be seen with a Taurus! I’m a proud Leo. Away with you!
When someone asks me which sign I am, I’m going to start carrying around the below image so I can pull it out and say ‘This one! This is my star sign alright!’
How about when the horoscope is so fucking vague, that the exact same passage of words could apply to you as well as a heroin junkie coming down from his methadone high. How does that shit work? Take a read of the following passage I found in today’s papers:
Have you got a hover-board? Is there a teleportation function on your wrist-watch? Oh dear. Don't you remember? You come from a world where everyone wears silver suits and there are hourly shuttles to Mars. How did you get here? How are you supposed to cope in a time like this when everything is so primitive? People are so respectfully deferential to the laws of space, time and gravity. You may not come from the future - but you are going there!
I swear to God, I did not make that up! What a bunch of hogwash. How on Earth will that help anyone today? (I won’t say which star sign it came from, I don’t want to disappoint anyone).
Can you just picture the author of these horoscopes? This poor bastard has to come up with 12 unique affirmations each and every day, no wonder they start to become more and more aloof and impersonal. It’s 10.30pm, the editor needs to send the paper to the printers, everyone has their articles in, the sports journo, the classifieds…they are all ready, they’re just waiting for Mystic Bob to deliver the goods…he’s sweating, his gut is hanging four inches over his belt, a cigarette smoldering away between his pursed lips… ‘Just one more paragraph of bullshit’ he screams internally at himself. ‘Fuck it, this will do’ and the result? The passage above.
Yes my friends, if it helps you get through the mundane days of life, then please, continue to read and be mystified by the creative writing skills of the journalist that just got fired from his role as the film critic, and not wanting to find real work, begged and pleaded with the editor-in-chief ‘Please, don’t send me out there, not to the real world, I won’t survive, please let me stay here…I’ll do anything! Anything I tells ya! I’ll write the horoscopes, I swear I’ll behave, please…please’
Until next time,
-Chris
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| Oliver says 'YEAR OF THE DOG ANYONE?' |
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